


What Courage Yet Unproven

by reserve



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Diva Loki, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hockey, I've lost my mind, Ice Skating, Loki Feels, M/M, Slow Burn, Thor Feels, Thor Needs a Hug, Why is Skating AU, skating au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 08:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/pseuds/reserve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor is a Freshman hockey player with UMASS's Minutemen; Loki is an injured Olympic hopeful training at the International Skating Center of Connecticut. When it becomes obvious that Thor's difficulty skating is holding both him and his team back, Coach Yevenko calls in the big guns: one extremely talented, finicky figure skater who begrudgingly accepts working with Thor for reasons of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Loki/Thor skating AU, inspired by Michael Kostka and Johnny Weir -- I cannot believe how insidious of an idea it is. Next chapter is coming very soon. I'd love to hear your thoughts, since I'm obviously still writing. Hope you enjoy!

The ice smells fresh, and their skates are the first to cut across it. Thor and the other Minutemen run drills back and forth, passing the puck between one another. They break into two teams and have a brief practice scrimmage that ends with one team shouting friendly insults at the other. It’s early December; only a few weeks until they break for Christmas, and subsequently January Term.  This will be the first year of Thor’s young life that he doesn’t go home for the holidays, instead he’ll be staying in his less than luxurious dorm room, and when he’s not in there, he’ll be practicing.

The team starts to do speed drills and Thor works hard to dispel his nervousness before his turn comes. Coach Yevenko times each of them; he watches their skates like a hawk.

“Odinson, Thor,” Yevenko calls out.

Thor readies himself, and grates his skates against the ice for good luck. He takes off down the rink, ready to skate behind the far net and back again. He’s going as fast he can and not looking back. He’s flying, and he feels steady on his skates.

And then he’s falling.

And then he’s on the ground, tangled up like a mistreated toy.

When he opens his eyes, Yevenko stands over him, and all of a sudden his teammates take interest. “Odinson,” Yevenko says, “change out and come to me in the office.”

Thor’s breath hitches, but he listens to his coach and shuffles off the ice to the men’s locker room. He looks stoically straight ahead. He’s good at hockey, and UMASS must think so too, because they’re paying for him to be here…but he will admit that he’s no great skater. He was hoping he could skate around that fact somehow.

Shortly after his shower, the other players bustle into the locker room joshing around and laughing, sweaty and winded. Jon Adler, the only other freshman on the team, gives him a sympathetic look and Thor shrugs. He laces up his sneakers and goes to the team office.

\---

“Do you have any idea how many times this has happened now?”

Thor nods in the negative, and it’s a lie. He knows exactly how many times he’s fallen during this very drill, plus the others, all of which involve grace and speed on skates. Yevenko shakes his head, and clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“The number would be 35 times, and those falls were on this drill alone. You and I” he says, in his thick cold war accent, “know there are many more drills that involve technical skating than we’ve done so far this season.”

“I know, Couch,” Thor says humbly, and before he can stop himself he adds “But I’m trying, I really am. I was the best skater in our junior league back in Ajax. You can ask anyone.”

“No matter Ajax, what matters is here. Here at UMASS. UMASS is privilege.”

Thor nods as solemnly as possible.

Yevenko steeples his fingers and looks at Thor appraisingly. “I have news.”

Thor can tell his pupils have dilated and his skin feels too warm. He’s about to lose his scholarship.

“Don’t look so horrified,” Yevenko says, waving a dismissive hand. “No one is being sent home. Not yet.”

He pauses.

“So this is my offer to you— there’s an Olympic hopeful doing several weeks of conditioning at the International Skating Center of Connecticut. He’s hurt. But he can still skate, and he will help you. You will learn much.”

“Olympic hopeful,” Thor perks up. “Who is he? What’s his team?”

“No team,” says Yevenko. “He skates alone.”

“But then…”

“He is figure skater.”

Oh. “How can I learn from some kind of…”

Yevenko cuts him off before Thor has the chance to get thoroughly indecent.

“You will skate with him when break begins, and if your ability doesn’t rapidly improve over January Term, you may find that you are being sent home indeed.”

Going home is the last think that Thor wants, and so he finds himself acquiescing. And then he finds himself getting very, very drunk a few hours later.

\---

“They’re what?” barks Adler over the din inside McKenna’s.

“They’re making me take lessons with a figure skater. Some kid who’s skating down in Connecticut.”

Adler’s eyebrows raise. “At least that’s a nice rink.”

“So I’ve heard,” says Thor. “I’m sure he’ll _love_ the facilities here at grand old UMASS.”

“Wait, this figure skater is a _guy_?” Adler balks.

“Yeah…His name is Loki. He’s from Pennsylvania or something,” Thor trails off.

“Oh, buddy,” Adler claps him on the shoulder, grinning, “things are about to get super weird for you. Have you ever spent time with male figure skaters? Or this particular one?”

Thor shakes his head.

“You’ll get used to it.” Adler winks. “C’mon let’s get another beer.”

They wander over to the bar and Thor picks up a conversation with a pretty blonde.  

When he finally stumbles back to his dorm that night, he does a quick Google of his soon to be tutor, and it looks like… well it looks like Adler may not have been joking.

\-----

Out in the distance, the hockey players grunt with exertion as they hurl themselves across the ice at each other. Somewhere there’s a puck in the melee, but Loki would be hard pressed to point out its whereabouts. Instead, the scene looks more like a gladiatorial arena than a modern sporting event. From half way up the risers, Loki tries to follow the helmet belonging to his new student, but it’s not easy when all of these broad, uniformed men look mostly the same to him. Every once in a while he can see Thor Odinson, distinctive by the blonde hair that slips from his helmet.

Loki’s only doing because he’s injured, and because Frigga had asked him to so nicely. There are few things he won’t do for his mother…and his coach. Plus, she had outdone herself to convince him it was a good idea.  

“It’ll be fun,” she’d said.

“You might make a new friend,” she’d said.

“We need the money,” she’d said.

“Every commentator says you must improve your patience on the ice,” she’d said, openly appealing to his ego.

“Fine,” he’d said, finally.

 _Unfair_.

Loki pulls his lips into a thin line, and sinks further into his massive fur coat. Everything about his situation is _unimaginably_ unfair. His accident means no Nationals, and no Nationals means no Worlds, and no Worlds means being done for the season and touring for the summer to make enough money for the next season. It makes Loki’s head spin, and it makes him livid. He’s lost an entire year of his career to the weakness of his own body.

And he’s just spent about 45 minutes watching his new pupil at practice.  He and Thor won’t start up together full time until after the holidays, but Loki had wanted to get a sense of him advance... And oh, how he _isn_ ’t counting down the days until January 2nd.

Thor isn't a _terrible_ skater, but he certainly isn't a good one, and this is undoubtedly a waste of Loki's precious time. Not only is it a waste; it’s not at all what he'd prefer to be doing during his so-called convalescence. Of course, the fact that UMASS is paying him, and that they’ve provided housing for him, and that they’ve set him up with an outstanding sports doctor sweetens the deal a little.  

Loki had only given himself a week to recover after the accident and then he was back on the ice. He can’t help himself, even if his ankle threatens to crumble each time he tries to perform an axel, or even land hard on it. Unfortunately, he’s the kind of skater who skates, at whatever the cost.

After the scrimmage, he ends up the bathroom just before the Minutemen break for the day. Loki thinks about Thor pulling off his practice helmet and shaking out his loose, sweaty blonde hair, the strands falling unexpectedly to his shoulders. He can admit that Thor is very handsome (if disheveled) and that he handles the puck well; he supposes that these are both reasons why a university like UMASS might keep Thor on the team despite his faults. Nothing like that would ever happen in his world, figure skating has no margin of error.

Loki crumples up a shitty UMASS paper towel, and throws it towards the shitty UMASS garbage can in the equally shitty UMASS restroom. This is going to be a terrible place to spend a month, but if he were to be honest with himself he’d have to admit that UMASS is actually much nicer than he thought it would be, and with two full-sized rinks, he’s almost impressed. Not that he’d admit that to anyone.

And he certainly wouldn’t admit to anyone how good looking his new student is, that only makes things more unbearably unfair.

\----

On the 2nd of January, Thor Odinson rushes from his dorm to the Mullins practice rink without even considering a cup of coffee. It’s 6:45 by the time he has his gear on, early by anyone’s standards; but when he approaches the rink he sees a lone female figure already skating.

The skater is dressed in all black: leggings, a zipped-up fitted hoodie that reads something in Russian across the back, and shoulder length black hair, swept delicately away from her face. Thor squints at the figure at the opposite end of the ice, trying to catch a peek of what he can already tell is a fine face, but when that body skates elegantly towards him, he realizes it must be Loki. His new teacher.

_Well, ok then._

Loki takes one look at him in his hockey gear and sends Thor immediately back to the locker room before he even says hello.

“Take off all of that nonsense,” he says dismissively. “You won’t be tackling anyone today.”

"Hockey doesn't really involve..." He starts to say, but the look on Loki's face sends him scowling back the way he came. When Thor returns in a UMASS sweatshirt and a pair of loose, light blue jeans, Loki nods his approval and beckons him out onto the ice.

“Skate towards me,” Loki says from a ways off, and he starts skating backwards, gesturing for Thor to follow facing him.  

Thor starts off strong, looking to impress. He skates hard towards Loki, conscious of the space around him, and his form. He dares a wolfish smile at the willowy man meant to be his teacher and then he skates directly into the wall with an indelicate smack.

“We certainly have our work cut for us, don’t we,” Loki drawls.

Thor has to bite back a series of curses that are desperately looking to escape his mouth, when Loki skates up to him and offers a tissue.

“I’m Loki,” he says, his voice both melodic and mocking.

“Fuck you,” says Thor, by way of greeting.

“How dare you!” Loki feigns dramatic insult. “Now, get up.”

\---

Their lessons continue in much the same vein at first. Thor falls, sprawls, and bumbles his way through Loki’s lessons, and Loki continues to be cold, bored, and practical through all of them. They work together for 5 hours daily, taking a break for lunch at separate tables. Thor always has a turkey sandwich with two pickle spears and a large coffee. Loki tends to have soup and green tea. Then they come back together on the ice.

Loki hardly speaks to him unless he’s giving Thor a command or chastising his technique. Thor kind of wishes he would speak a little more, and no matter how Thor prods, Loki won’t give. Worst of all, Loki is intriguing, Loki seems like he has a story. And, well, he’s attractive, although it pains Thor to think so--especially because as far as he knows he’s not gay.

On Tuesday, Thor ties to break the ice for the billionth time and asks, with a hint of frustration, “Why are you even doing this?”

“I’ve been asked to do this, and I couldn’t deny the asker,” is Loki’s quick response.

“What, by your coach?”  

“Yes,” Loki says simply.

“Huh…ok then.”

“Skate backwards for two laps and don’t look down.”

“You’re the worst,” Thor says, and Loki only stares at him with undisguised disdain, hands on his slim hips.

\---

Later that night he meets up with Adler, just as an excuse not to go home.

Thor is cradling his pint in his hands and he is _tired_. Bone tired. Lok is running him ragged into the ice, and the last thing he wants to be doing is drinking with Adler when he could be sitting in bed with ice on his hips. But if he goes straight home he’ll keep thinking about skating, and thinking about Loki making him skate, and thinking about Loki admonishing him from across the ice… and this is better. Surely, this is better.

“So what’s he like?” Adler asks.

Thor shrugs nonchalantly. He has literally no idea how to describe Loki. Annoying? Brunette? Kind of prissy? Elegant? Ill-tempered? _Ugh_.

“Use your words,” Adler chides. “I have to know.”

“I mean.” Thor waves his hands around. “He’s just...” This wasn’t supposed to be a talking hang out, this was supposed to be a quietly get shit faced hang out. He feels like he hasn’t seen Adler in weeks, have they really not talked about his pale, pointy-faced skating coach?

“He’s just what?” Adler looks at him expectantly.

They’re back at McKenna’s because McKenna’s doesn’t card, and that’s rare in the Valley. The place is empty; like most of the bars around here during J-Term.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, man. Are you actually at a loss for words?”

Thor swiftly turns to face his friend, and feels unexpected anger rising in his chest. “Don’t mock me” he says, and it comes out like a growl.

“Ok, take it easy.” Adler smiles a little. “But like, he’s just another person. I don’t get why it’s hard to talk about him.”

“You’d know if you’d met him,” Thor says, rubbing at his eyes. “I’ve never been more conflicted about another human being in my whole life.”

Adler raises one of his thick blonde eyebrows. “You’re conflicted? Are we even allowed to be conflicted at this age?”

Thor laughs. “I hope so, because I am.”

“Do you… like him?” Adler ventures.

“Well.” Thor bites his lower lip. “He’s a good teacher. He’s a little impatient, but that’s because he can’t understand why some things are hard for me. He can get kind of nasty, but it’s like watching an angry cat. Almost cute? I don’t know.”

“So you like him,” Adler says matter of factly, and he doesn’t sound disgusted or even a little bit surprised.

“If he were a girl,” Thor mutters resignedly, “he’d be one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever met. Maybe the prettiest.”

“Ok.” Adler grins at full wattage this time, “you’re definitely allowed to be conflicted.”

\---

After the first week, Loki calls his mother in tears.

“There’s no way that I can do this. He keeps trying to _talk_ to me.”

“Darling,” says Frigga, “Of course he’s trying to talk to you. You’re his coach.”

“I don’t want him to talk to me, and I’m no coach. I’m barely older than him!”

“You’ve been teaching skating since you were 15. I know you can do this,” Frigga soothes. “Plus, you have no choice.”

“I know, it’s just…” Loki sniffles loudly into the phone. He’s sitting on the lone twin bed in his sparsely decorated bedroom. The iron paned windows look out onto a snow-covered Amherst. The little shops are still decorated for Christmas, and it’s so quaint that it makes him sad. Lonely for something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“What are you doing each day?” Frigga asks.

“Drills mostly. For speed and agility. He– _Thor_ knows his own body; it’s not like he’s completely unaware of himself like a novice might be, but he’s clumsy and distracted. It’s amazing that he’s made it this far without getting his footing on the ice.”  

Frigga makes a thoughtful sound.

“Have you considered that he might just be nervous?”

Loki scoffs. “Do hockey players get nervous?”

“Of course they do,” Frigga says, and Loki can hear her smile through the phone.

“Try making it less serious?” She offers. “Not everyone can handle your level of intensity all the time. I’m sure Thor loves to skate, otherwise he wouldn’t be playing hockey.”

Loki contemplates this. “Ok…I guess we could try and do something ‘fun,’” he says, and he’s sure his mother can hear the scare quotes in his voice.

“Good,” Frigga says, and then, softly, “Loki, you know that people will like you no matter who you love, right?”   

He closes his eyes. “I know, mother. But…I’m so used to be being pushed around by guys like him. The golden ones, you know.” He sighs. “It’s hard to trust...”

“Try this time,” she cuts in. “He needs you more than you need him. And if it goes downhill, we’ll find a way to pay for your rehabilitation ourselves.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“Work hard,” she says. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Loki says.

And then she’s gone, and he’s crying anew.

\---

The next day, the bus doesn’t come and snow hammers into town. Loki’s neighbor says this is a classic Pioneer Valley nor’easter, which doesn’t help him get to UMASS any faster. He misses his physical therapy session, and the snow flattens his favorite mink coat into a wet mess.

He’s about to give up and call Thor when a beige and brown minivan comes rumbling up to him, spraying dirty, wet snow across his front. Loki scowls and hastily tries to wipe away worst of it before he gives the driver a piece of his mind.

He looks up, and Thor peers at him from driver’s side window.

“Need a lift?” he asks.

Loki scrunches up his brow.

“Get in,” Thor says, and it’s the most commanding thing Loki’s ever heard him say.

“I have a coffee for you,” Thor adds.

_Could be worse._

Loki complies and Thor hands him a hot Starbucks beverage. He turns up the heat before Loki can ask. Thor’s van is littered with papers, empty coffee cups, and several crushed red bulls. In the back, Thor’s alternate gear litters the stained cloth seats.

 “This van is disgusting,” Loki says, as they drive towards the university.

 “You’re welcome,” Thor says.

 Loki crosses his arms over his chest. “Thank you.”

“Also you looked like a drowned rat.” Thor smiles.

 

_To be continued..._


	2. Treading Lightly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Thor manage to break the ice; first a little, then a lot. This chapter involves monogrammed waffle shirts, mothers, jaeger bombs, and boners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this came about much faster than expected! They're just so much fun to write, especially now that things are, ahem, heating up. Again, would love to hear your feedback. Happy New Year!!

No one will say so, but Thor can tell that he’s getting a little better.

For one, his “coach” has started speaking full, non-skating related sentences to him instead of just giving the side-eye whenever Thor attempts conversation. And more importantly, he’s falling a little less now, and he’s getting better at drills even if he’s doing them alone. Sometimes Loki skates beside him as a teammate might during a real drill, and Thor really seems to be making progress.

Most surprising of all, at his Minutemen practice in the late evenings, Coach Yevenko has noticed a very slight difference in his skating, and nods his approval when Thor manages to complete all of the drills except for two that leave him flat on his face. This must be a record, he thinks.

\---

On Thursday, Thor brings Loki another coffee and Loki gives him a serious once over as he laces up his hockey skates. It looks like he’s wearing galoshes.

Loki shakes his head. “I should get you some real skates.”

Thor looks down, and furrows his brow. “These are real skates.”

“If you says so,” Loki says, arms crossed. Today he’s wearing all white and white skates, and his charge is wearing an embarrassing red waffle shirt with a golden T on it and grey sweats. He looks like a teenager, which Loki supposes he is. Or at least was until very recently. Loki himself is only 22, but he’s worldly, and that makes up the difference.

They take to the ice, looping around to warm up, and Loki is secretly very pleased when Thor completes several perfectly proportioned figure eights. He’s also pleased about the coffee (which makes his chest ache).

“Where’d you get that shirt?” Loki asks when they stop skating for a moment, and take a rest in the penalty box.  

Thor takes a big gulp of water from his UMASS Nalgene, and when he looks down at himself he spills water all down his front. Loki stifles a giggle. Thor is kind of an oaf. 

“This shirt?” Thor points at himself.

Loki rolls his eyes.

“No, some other invisible shirt.”

“What?”

“Yes, that shirt,” he says, his upper lip curling. “Where did you get a gold and red shirt with your _initial_ on it.”

“My mother,” Thor says without shame. And then he smiles. “She’s my biggest fan.”

Loki’s lips quirk into a smile of his own, and he looks down at his lap. “My mother is my biggest fan, too.”

“Let’s drink to moms,” Thor says, and raises up his water high.

“Yes, let’s,” Loki says and does the same.

They cheers midair and drink. Then the mock seriousness of the toast becomes laughter. Loki strongly suspects that Thor is eying him fondly, but he really cannot be sure. Thor has little ability to mask his facial expressions, and right now he’s smiling warmly and it’s either about moms, or Loki himself.

“You know,” Thor says, “I think that’s the first time I’ve really seen you smile. It’s nice.”

Loki blushes in spite of himself, and if Thor notices he doesn’t say anything.

“Your mom’s your coach, right?” he continues.

“How did you know that?” Loki asks.  

“I googled you.” Thor shrugs. 

“Ah."

“She was an Olympian, too, right? Albertsville, 1980? She won the Bronze for the Soviet Union… and then defected?”

“I’m not an Olympian yet,” Loki says to his water bottle.

“You know what I mean.” 

He clears his throat. “My mother is brilliant. She defected to skate here-- in the US. I’m lucky to be an American, but now that I’m a professional figure skater, and there’s no more USSR, I think I may have preferred a Russian childhood.”

Loki’s features soften, and Thor seems to be staring at him more intently than usual. 

“Anyway,” he says, “how could she have known that the wall would come down only a few years after she left.”

“I’m Canadian,” Thor says, apropos of nothing. “Hey, do you speak Russian?”

“A little,” Loki admits.

“Maybe you could talk to my coach. I think something’s lost in translation there.”

“Funnily enough,” Loki says, “Yevenko is the only reason I was asked to come here. He’s known my mother for ages, since before either of them left Russia.”

“Then I guess you’ll be of no help at all,” Thor says jokingly.

“I’m all the help you’ll ever get,” Loki replies smugly.

“That’s probably true,” Thor says thoughtfully, and glances down at his watch. “Shit, Loki, the community skate starts in like 10 minutes. We should get out of here.”

Loki remembers what his mother had said, about making this fun. Maybe he should ask Thor to stay through the community open skate hour with him. That could be fun. _Why not?_

“Let’s stay,” he says. “We can free skate. I promise not to publicly berate you, that’s for private time.”

This time, Thor blushes and says nothing.

“Ok,” he says after nearly too long. “But you have to buy me a hot chocolate.”

\---

They sit in the stands together and Thor drinks his hot cocoa, his large hands wrapped around the cup, dwarfing it. He stares at Loki, who looks prim and slightly uncomfortable, his eyes focused on the rink. It’s an abrupt change from their convivial conversation a little while ago.

Thor nudges him in the ribs.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Loki says, without moving his head.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Cool,” Thor says and then he starts to whistle The Final Countdown. Loki’s shoulders bunch up in annoyance.

“Could you stop?” he says.

 Thor shrugs. “Are we going to skate or do you want to sit here and burn holes in the ice?”

 “We can skate,” Loki says, and stands abruptly. He reaches down a slim hand and Thor takes it firmly in his own. He swears he can hear Loki take a shaky breath. _Could he be nervous?_

Once Thor is up, Loki drops his hand immediately and Thor raises his eyebrows as they walk down the risers. This is… weird. For a moment there, it had seemed like Loki didn’t hate him.

When they get to the ice, Thor grins at Loki and reaches for him. “Should we hold hands, you know, couples’ skate?”

Loki glares at him. “Not over my dead body,” he says, and pushes himself away from the wall and into the throng.

Somehow it feels like an invitation, and Thor takes off after him, gliding past the other skaters with ease, his hair flapping behind him.

“Hey! Hey!” he calls as he catches up with Loki, almost exactly where they started off. He grabs Loki’s hand.

Loki tries to pull away but Thor hangs on. He clearly has more brute strength than his slight skating teacher.

“What are you doing?” Loki hisses.

“I’m skating with you!” Thor says, he’s just developed a fondness for catching Loki off-guard.

“Let go,” Loki says, and tries to struggle as they continue to skate.

"Nope!" Thor says cheerfully, and then he feels himself begin to lose his precious balance.  Loki tries to wrest his hand free, but before Thor can let go, the fall comes on fast and they’re both ass down on the ice, with Loki practically in his lap.

Loki’s cheeks are red, and he’s breathing heavily. His hands scrabble across Thor's thighs as he tries to gain purchase, but he can’t maneuver himself out of Thor’s lap. 

Thor puts his hands behind Loki’s slim, muscular thighs and pushes him up until he can stand. He starts to get up off the ice himself, but when he's back on his feet, Loki's gone, and Thor realizes with great dismay that he has an erection.

 _Fuck_.

\---

The locker room is empty, not even a hint of Loki to be found. Thor changes out hastily, shoving his skates carelessly into his duffle bag. He puts on his thick flannel shirt and his parka, and pulls his beanie on. There’s a small chance that Loki could be waiting outside for him, but most likely, he’s long gone.

Thor’s head is spinning. He feels hot all over, like his whole body is blushing hard. He feels like crawling into a cave and staying there until the snow melts. How could he possibly have been so… inappropriate? Here, Loki is doing him a favor, and his own body turns traitor. Thor is pretty sure Loki is gay, or something like it, but that’s no excuse.

 _Still_. Thor closes his eyes as the chilly air hits his face. With Loki trapped in lap lap and squirming around, there was little Thor could do about the biological reaction he experienced. And with Loki in those tight leggings, the way he unintentionally ground down into Thor’s lap, there was nothing left to the imagination through the loose, thin fabric of Thor’s sweatpants….

Thor swipes a hand over his face. He feels like a pig. Loki must be completely repulsed. He keeps his head down against the wind as he makes his way back to the van, all the way in the student parking lot.

He’s only a few feet away when he hears the sound, like someone clearing their throat. Thor looks up, his eyebrows coming together in surprise.

There, leaning against his stupid old van is Loki: utterly calm, wrapped in one of his giant fur coats, his arms crossed elegantly over his chest, his skating bag at his feet. Loki’s lips are red from the cold, glistening from licking away the damaging air. His cheeks are flushed, the color creeping up his cheekbones. He wears fur earmuffs which Thor swears he’s never seen before, and he is so, so pale, which only makes the color on his face standout more.

Thor stares.

Loki tilts his head back, considering him through lowered lashes.

“I thought you were going to give me a ride home,” he says, and swear to God, Thor thinks he hears a hint of smugness in Loki’s soft voice.

“I, well yeah, of course I am,” Thor all but stutters.

“So open the car, I’m freezing to death.”

Thor keys open his car, and opens the door for Loki, who’s still looking at him through his lashes with an indiscernible expression. Loki clambers into the passenger seat and Thor picks up his skating bag for him, placing it gently at his feet. Loki favors him with a small smile, and Thor swallows hard. This is not _at all_ what he expected.

They drive in silence for a little while; it’s not a short trip back to Amherst.

“Loki,” Thor says after the quiet has gone on for too long. “Do you want to get a drink later? I feel like I owe you.”

“And why would you owe me?” Loki looks at him coquettishly, all innocence as far as Thor can tell.

“Well, for working so hard with me. I haven’t, um, properly thanked you,” Thor says lamely. 

“Ok,” Loki replies. “But I want to meet your friends. Your,” he pauses, “your teammates. Can I meet them?”

Thor bites his lip. This, he feels, could be a very bad idea. Mostly because he’d maybe like to apologize to Loki for _sort of_ assaulting him earlier, and the last thing Thor wants is for someone so controlled and constant as Loki to think he’s some of monster who can’t keep his desires under wraps.

“Please?” Loki whines playfully. “I’ll be good. I won’t tell them what a shitty skater you are.”

Thor looks at him. “They already know how shitty I am.”

“Good, then it’s settled. Pick me up at 9 and you can take me out for that ‘thank you’ drink.”

Loki looks so pleased with himself that Thor can’t argue, so he just nods, and Loki spends the rest of the drive prattling on about how excited he is to meet a bunch of hockey players. Which doesn’t make sense to Thor at all, considering what Loki seems to think of him.

\----

 _Well, that was unexpected_ is the only thing running through Loki’s head once Thor drops him off at the rambling Victorian that makes his temporary home.

He drops his skates in the living room, and goes to his bedroom. Locks the door as though someone else could possibly be in his apartment. 

The mirror he bought for his barren room hangs on the back of his door and Loki strips off his clothing and looks at himself hard in the glass. He looks no different than he usually does: high cheekbones, reasonably plump lips that thin out when he smiles, black hair smoothed back from his face and curled against his neck. His body his pale, well muscled despite how slim he is. This is maybe the slimmest he’s ever been, his collarbones jutting out under his skin. Loki observes his pointed chin, and his clean arched eyebrows.

He turns to the side and takes in his profile, the lines of his body and the swell of his ass, curvaceous in comparison to the rest of him. His cock lies limply against his thigh, pinker than the whole of his body. Loki tilts his neck back, places a hand at the place where his neck meets his shoulders.

He knows he’s attractive, but he feels shocked. Shocked that someone, someone like…

 _Thor_ might find him so.

And now that he knows, knows that the fond and lingering looks were meant for him, he feels different. It was one thing to conjecture about Thor’s interest, but now the situation has shifted. He felt Thor against him, and Thor knows. Thor knows and feels guilty about it.

He has no real compunction about taking advantage of this revelation.

Although this can’t possibly be what his mother meant by “fun,” Loki doesn’t care one bit.

\---  

They go to Northampton, a little town south of Amherst. Northampton’s main street is bustling with, well, girls: lots of girls, wandering around in their duffel coats, arm in arm. It looks like a Paddington Bear convention. The bar is called Packard’s, and Thor assures him that they don’t card.

Packard’s has a green exterior and patriotic signs in the window. Inside, the walls are lined with Pioneer Valley memorable if you can call it that. Loki notices several Minutemen specific artifacts. He and Thor are shown to a small booth on a raised platform just across from the bar. They both pick up their menus as soon as they sit. The menus are covered with little cartoons, which makes Loki want to giggle and cringe.

Thor makes only vague eye contact, thoroughly invested in his menu.  

“So this is a bar your friends go to?” Loki asks, raising an eyebrow as he takes in the room. 

“Yup,” Thor says, not looking up. And then, “what do you want to drink?” 

“I don't know, I don't drink a lot.” Loki pauses. “Figure skaters don't really guzzle beer.” 

Thor rolls his eyes. “Well pick something, I'm buying you a drink.” 

 _Fine_. “Vodka soda and a slice of lime.”

Thor glances up at him. “Watching your figure?”

“Always,” Loki says with a thin smile.  

Thor orders himself a jaeger bomb of all things and Loki's lips become a smirk. "What are you celebrating?"

“Us,” Thor says. “We're making progress.” 

“You're making progress,” Loki corrects him. “I'm trapped in the middle of nowhere with a hockey player and no free time.”

Thor makes disgruntled noise, and then their drinks come.

His “date” downs his foolish beverage in own long gulp. 

“Another... please,” he asks of a passing waitress. 

Loki sips his vodka, and when Thor's second jaeger bomb arrives at the table he asks for a taste. _This is fun, right?_

Thor offers his foaming glass, and Loki takes a cautious swallow. 

Shockingly, it’s good and he says so.

“I know,” Thor chuckles. “Do you want one? You'll need to drink it quickly.”

Loki eyes him. “Ok.” _Fun_.  

Thor swallows down his second glass and then orders two more of the same.

"Ready?" he asks, holding a shot of Baileys over his dark beer. 

Loki nods and readjusts his own shot.

“Go!” Thor cries, looking Loki full in the face

Loki drops his shot, and slams back the whole thing without incident; he doesn’t spill a bit. 

When he puts his glass down, he gracelessly wipes a sleeve across his mouth to reveal a massive pleased smile. Only then does he realize that Thor's pint is untouched and his mouth is hanging open. 

“What?” he asks, a little annoyed. 

“Nothing,” Thor says innocently.

“Then close your mouth.” 

Thor closes his mouth and Loki says smugly, "Didn’t think I could do it?"

“No, no I'm just... Impressed."

Loki smirks. He suspects he's better at a lot of things than Thor realizes. “We need a rematch,” he says, a hint of mischief glittering in his eyes. _Fun, fun, fun._

“Of course!” Thor thumps his fist on the table in agreement.  

Another round is ordered and Loki drinks this jaeger bomb as easily as the first. Thor is staring again, but this time he finishes his drink. 

Loki feels good. Four rounds on and they've moved closer to each other in the small rounded booth. His thigh is pressed against Thor's, and they're laughing about one of Thor's recent wipe-outs, their faces close together. Thor takes a sip of the Budweiser he's moved on to, and Loki takes a moment to look around. 

None of Thor's friends have stopped by the bar. Thor had promised they'd go somewhere that Loki could meet his teammates. 

He looks at Thor speculatively. “Did you tell anyone you'd be here?”

“Sorta,” Thor says, looking down at his beer. Then, “No.” 

“Well, how were any of your friends to know that you'd be here?”

Thor shrugs and Loki takes another look around the room: Smith students mostly, professorial looking types, a few jock-ish guys and young marrieds. He knows Thor's friends don't come here. This isn't anything like the hockey bars he's been to (under protest) in the past.

“Your friends don't come here at all, do they?” 

“They do! I swear.” Thor puts a hand over his heart, swearing.  

Loki feels sudden, sickening anger rising in his chest. Worse yet, he feels truly intoxicated. Stupid drinks, stupid Thor. He hates feeling this way: unwanted, deceived.

“Are you ashamed to be seen with me?” he asks, low and dangerous. 

 “I'm being seen with you right now,” Thor says lightly. 

“But not by people you know, not by people who might judge you,” Loki says, his tone dark.  

“Why would I care what anyone thinks?”

“Everyone cares what people think of them.”

 _Everyone cares_. Especially straight, state school hockey players. Everyone cares!” Loki’s voice has risen to a shout and he downs his now watery vodka soda in a single gulp. 

“I have go,” he says. 

And then he's out the door, pulling on his coat as he goes. 

\---

Thor drops $40 on their table and bolts out after him. Loki is halfway down the block when Thor catches up, and grabs a handful of his coat to stop him.

Loki whirls around and looks like he's about to spit venom at Thor's face. Plus, he's crying. Just a little, but Thor can barely take it. His voice cracks, as he cries "Loki!" and it makes him feel like a stupid child. 

"What?" Loki hisses. 

Thor's head drops. "I'm sorry." 

"Then why did you lie in the first place? Why didn't you take me out for a drink somewhere without lying!"

Thor puts both his hands on Loki's slim shoulders.

"You wanted to meet some of my friends so badly... I don't know. I don't know why I lied. I...didn’t think you’d say yes if I said my friends wouldn’t be around, I… "

"You what? Couldn't bear to be seen with me?" Loki points at himself, baring his bottom teeth. “Couldn't bear to let your precious hockey buddies know that you might spend time with someone like me?"

"No, no, not like that,” Thor says, eyes wide.

"You don't want them to know that you spend every day with some faggot?"

"No!" Thor puts up his hands pleadingly. _This isn't right at all._

"What then?" Loki snaps.

“I wanted to be alone with you,” he mumbles.

“What did you say?” Loki whispers. 

“I said I wanted to be alone with you.”  

“Don't mumble, you idiot.” 

“I SAID: I WANTED YOU ALONE,” Thor shouts, and two Smith girls turn around to stare at them. 

"Oh." Loki frowns, his forehead wrinkled.

"I'm sorry," Thor says again.

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” Loki stares hard at him.  

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, _Thor_.” Loki wipes a hand over his face. “It’s not a game.”

Thor is genuinely puzzled.

“You bring coffee, you pick me up from home, you … you talk to me.” Loki’s voice cracks.

“I do those things because I like you,” Thor says earnestly. He hasn’t released his grip on Loki’s shoulders. “Because you’re helping me out.”

“Right. Right. But you act like you really like me. Like you’re flirting with me, and I don’t have time for whatever game you’re playing at. I’m not a game and I’m not some girl you meet after the game. When this month is over I go back to training and you go back to being a budding hockey star that’s not suffering from Stockholm syndrome. You go back to your real life and you forget me.”

“Why would I…” Thor starts.

“Oh _please,_ when you look back on this experience you’ll be glad—”

Thor cuts him off. “No, I won’t be glad,” he says, and then he takes a deep breath and hauls Loki towards him, drags him really, and says close, so close that he can feel Loki’s breath on his face, “I won’t be glad at all.”

Loki’s eyes are wide and glassy and so green, and Thor can see that he’s about to protest or pull away, and so he swallows the air between them, calls upon his courage, and presses his lips hard against Loki’s mouth.

He slides his hands down Loki’s back and envelopes him in a crushing embrace, and when Loki doesn’t budge or flinch, Thor deepens the kiss and Loki’s mouth opens hesitantly under his to accept his tongue. He skims his hands over Loki’s back and Loki’s freed hands come up to rest on his hips, where his parka ends.

Someone moans into the kiss, and Thor thinks the wanton sound came from his own lips.    

 

_To be continued...._

**Author's Note:**

> FYI: Michael Kostka actually attended UMASS and played for the Minutemen. When you look up his profile, the main comment is that he's not a very good skater. 
> 
> At one point, Johnny Weir did train at the International Skating Center of Connecticut


End file.
